Broken
by kmsutton92
Summary: After the battle, Ginny is dead, but watching Harry. How does Harry react to her death? How does Ginny react to what she sees?


**/Disclaimer/**

**J.K Rowling owns the characters. Seether owns the song.**

**//Author's Note//**

**Anything in _italics_ is Ginny's point of view.**

**Anything **normal **is Harry's.**

**Anything centered are song lyrics.**

**Make sure to review! I know this is a bit iffy, but I'll edit it later.**

* * *

I draw in a deep breath. All around me, things are burning. I see twisted metal, I see the screams of those who got caught in the final explosion. They're on fire, and they scream. The acrid smell of smoke and burning flesh linger in the air. My best friends are out there, either trying to help, charred and burnt, or burning. And all I can do is watch from the safety of my spot. I wonder if you'll make it out. I started the explosion for a reason, my love. I had to finish it. But I don't want to risk my own death, so I set off an explosion.

My years of bravery have come down to this. The moment of cowardice that could very well be the end of your life. Yours, and your brother's, and your best friend's. As I stare at the raging fire, I know he is dead. The world is free from the plague that is Lord Voldemort. I hope you'll make it. Maybe you'll escape from the flames as bright and captivating as your hair. Or maybe you're more like the wood, charred and blackened, nearly unrecognizeable. If you die, I'll never be able to face your family. I'll check St. Mungo's in a couple of hours. Maybe you'll end up there. And if not, they'll at least be able to tell me if you made it out.

I wanted you to know I love the way you laugh  
I wanna hold you high and steal your pain away  
I keep your photograph; I know it serves me well  
I wanna hold you high and steal your pain

'Cause I'm broken when I'm lonesome  
And I don't feel right when you're gone away

You've gone away, you don't feel me anymore

You didn't make it. The thought burns into me, tearing me apart. Only a few days ago you were so full of life, of laughter. Oh how I loved your laugh. Did I ever get to tell you that? No, I didn't. I know you were in pain. Pain because I left you, pain because I hurt you. I wanted to hold you, lift you up, erase the pain. I wanted you to feel better. I wanted you to forgive me, so that when the time came, it would all be alright. You were not supposed to be at that battle! You were not supposed to come! I told you not to come! But you did. And now you're gone. Dead and buried, six feet under. I've taken to the bottle. It doesn't heal, but it eases the pain for a bit.

When I'm lonely, I'm broken. And without you, I'm lonely. I don't feel right when you're gone. You're gone. You can't feel me, I can't feel you.

I'm sorry.

* * *

_I'm looking for you. You must be here somewhere. You must have caused the explosion. So far, I'm okay. Ron and Hermione are injured. They're being taken to St. Mungo's. All around me the people who were helping are screaming and falling. They're burning. I can smell it. I can taste it. It makes me gag. But you have to be here somewhere, and I will not rest until I find you. I was not supposed to come, but I came anyway. I love you too much to stay away. I like to fight, and I refuse to let myself stay behind merely because I'm young and a girl. I simply won't have it._

_I'm still looking for you as the second explosion sounds. And suddenly, all is black._

The worst is over now and we can breathe again  
I wanna hold you high, you steal my pain away  
There's so much left to learn, and no one left to fight  
I wanna hold you high and steal your pain

'Cause I'm broken when I'm open  
And I don't feel like I am strong enough  
'Cause I'm broken when I'm lonesome  
And I don't feel right when you're gone away

_It's over now, Harry. You don't see me, but I see you. I see you drink. And drink. And drink. You've taken to the bottle since my death. I've learned many things from your whispered words to me. I don't think you realize that I am here and listening. If I had known you weren't actually at the battle site, that you had suddenly become a coward and taken an easy way out, I would have gone home. But I didn't know, so I looked for you. I looked for you in all the wrong places. And now I'm here._

_But the worst is over. We can all breathe. You want to hold me high? I wish I could hold you high. You take my pain, I take yours. You've got a lot to learn, and no one to fight. It's over._

_But I am incredibly broken, watching you. When I'm broken I'm open. But I have no one to share things with. You do not hear me. I'm not strong enough to watch you, but I cannot keep away. I am not a ghost, I am not in heaven. I am in the middle. Young, and undecided. I'm broken, which means I'm lonesome. And with you gone, alive and drinking yourself to death, I don't feel right._

* * *

'Cause I'm broken when I'm open  
And I don't feel like I am strong enough  
'Cause I'm broken when I'm lonesome  
And I don't feel right when you're gone away

'Cause I'm broken when I'm lonesome  
And I don't feel right when you're gone

You've gone away, you don't feel me anymore

_The only thing I can say to you, Harry, is to stop. Don't do this to yourself. Stop the drinking, stop the isolation. Don't you ever, ever point that wand at yourself and mutter those two words. The only problem with me saying this, is that you can't hear me. You say I've gone away, but I say otherwise._

I'm not strong enough to deal with your death. It would be so easy to join you. One quick curse. Just one. I could be with you.

_I'm broken, watching you. I focus, I concentrate, the whiskey bottle in your hand smashes. You frown at the blood, and pick up a large piece of glass, studying it. Don't you dare._

I don't feel right with you gone, and now, as I stare at the shard of broken glass, I see there are other ways. Who says it has to be painless with my wand?

_I watch you, as you take the glass and slice it over your arm, testing it. I watch the blood run freely. I watch, as you raise the glass to your throat._

It would be so easy.

_But you don't do it. You toss the glass across the room, and you sit, lonely and broken. And I'd prefer this to knowing you died._


End file.
